Free at Last

January 21, 2015: Detective Hammerman stops by Barry's "office" to inform him the charges are being dropped. (emits by Seikatsu)

//New York/

The Big Apple



  • Hammerman (emitted by Seikatsu

Mood Music:

For the umpteenth day in a row, Barry Allen is seated in a charcoal covered swivel chair as he's trying to find a break in the case. He stares at the tiled ceiling, having a good feel for the case, but still unsure how to prove that it wasn't him that committed the crime. He's at wits end, the way a man can be when he spends 10 - 12 hours a day in a room without windows, obsessed with one case. He's tired, weary, and desperate for a way for this to all be over.

Somewhere in Brooklyn:

The body of Esmerelda Sanchez was found. Positioned same as Barb Jones was, arms stretched out this time, skin flayed from elbow to wrist and shaped in the form of wings. Barry's location at the time was confirmed to Hammerman, he was at home.. his new home during the time of the murder so it was not him. Instead of talking to Barry right away to alert him of the news, terrorist attacks happened, lights went out, Mutant Town attacked by dozens of..

ninjas? Whatever.

But he finally got his break through all of the mess, hat curled within his hand and twisted along heavy fingers, a hand lifting to knock at the door with three loud raps as he takes a step back to wait for the door to swing.

The overhead door slides up and back and Hammerman comes face to face with the baby-faced CSI who is looking worse for way. "Hammerman," he says wearily. "Come on in." He slides over to the chair and slides it along it's wheels to the far edge of the room and he nods over towards the seat. "By all means." A second later, he asks, "What's up?"

"You look worse than I feel, kid." 5r
He had that Laurence Fishbourne esque thing about him, full of confidence but with hung shoulders that made him look a bit older than he really is. He steps into the apartment, gaze torn around the room, a quick once over and a habitual of checking the exits as any old army vet would.

"Not too much is going on. Aside from the usual in this place." He didn't pull up a chair, but he did move away from the door to step closer to the young man, wanting to pat him on the shoulder or give him a hug but, men do what men do. They don't cry too openly. At least not this one. Plus he's got nothing to cry about.

"There's been another murder. Which is why I'm here." He lets that soak in for a little bit, gauging his reaction.

Barry's lips part as he hears the news about another murder. "There has? What happened? Was it him?" Barry's first reaction is anger. Whoever this guy is, they need to catch him and catch him quick. "Who do you have working on it?"

"Yeah." He states, finally stepping toward a chair to take a seat. He flips open his coat, retrieving a set of folded up papers, which were obviously copied from the case file. He offers them up, then hangs his hat upon his knee. "It was. So far you're in the clear. Moore gathered particulates from the crime scene and it's a lot more scattered than it was before. I don't understand all of that mumbo jumbo shit, but.."

He lets out a slight groan. "You're cleared from the case, for now. But you're officially not allowed to work on it. We have to do this by the book, and since you were once a suspect that would make this personal for you."

There were photos of the gruesome scene, details written up upon the womans background, anything that he could copy without getting caught was there.

Barry reaches out to take the papers into his hands with a sigh before leaning back and bringing one long leg over the other. A finger comes to his lips as he takes a look at the photographs. "Well, I can't help officially, but I sure can help unofficially. It's good news that I've been cleared, but we still gotta get this guy." Barry looks at the photographs and raises his eyebrow, "Where did you say this one happened?" He gets up and grabs a thumbtack before going over toward the large map of the five burroughs.

"And that's what I'm here for. Look, Moore has his good points, but you're the best. And he's still training under you. The sooner we close this case, the sooner you can get back to work and helping that kid out. He's a bit loss, but extremely happy at our recent findings." He pauses. "Dead woman aside."

As Barry stands, so does he, hands upon his hips as he looks at the board mapping the city area.

"Brooklyn. She was last seen talking to a man at some Speed Dating event. The woman there says that she was smitten with the guy and wouldn't leave his side all night." He gestures to the papers. "We talked or managed to track down a few people who were there at the event. Some managed to come up with a few sketches of the man in question, but each description changes with each person we interviewed. Though they all say the same thing, the guy had some weird tattoos around his lips."

"Weird tattoos?" Barry says turning his slouching body towards Hammerman by using the backs of his heels. "I'm no Don Juan, that's for sure, but that sort of sounds like a turnoff. Around the lips anyways." Barry runs his hand through his hair, "Guessing you've already ruled out Mike Tyson. Anyone else with facial tattoos on the radar?"

"As if you're reading the minds of women alike out there and know what they want." Hammerman couldn't help but stifle a laugh, and even though he tries it comes barrelling out of him with the need to slap his thigh. "We have two." His voice rang with amusement, though it became serious soon after. "Jeremy Tell. But last we checked he was still in Central City. So there's no way that guy could have made his way here to kill a woman, frame you, and make his way back home in the time frame allowed. For both murders." He pauses. "Also, I doubt he has tattoos on his face."

His hand reaches up to stroke along his jaw, "Then there's this freak named Tony Woodward, but with his deformity I highly doubt that he'd be allowed in a Speed Dating club at all." He gestures towards the pictures of the crime scene in Barry's hand. "But look at those photos. Whoever did this had a really, really steady hand. And a penchant for art. Aside from the DNA evidence that was left behind, we figured it really was you because of the precision of the cuts."

Barry raises his eyebrows, "Well if there's a guy here from Central City, it makes some sense. He'd have been able to collect my DNA a bit more easily back there." His bites his lower lip and tilts his head, "What's Tell's history?"

When the topic turns to Woodward, Barry looks back up at Hammerman, "What's the deformity?"

Hammerman laughs. "You wouldn't believe this shit. This guy, Tell? From what I hear from the folks back at Central, he's got tattoos of cards all over him. That was all they could tell me. Was once suspected of murder of a guy over a card game. Real piece of work. They got that guy on watch for a string of robberies but they know he hasn't left the city due to famiilial ties."

When it came to Woodward, Hammerman was dumbstruck. As if what he heard? He couldn't believe. "He.. I suppose he had willingly grafted metal on his skin." Quite frankly, it disgusted Hammerman. While he didn't hate mutants and people with natural deformities? To do something as bond metal to yourself was something completely different.

"I gotta ask, Barry. What happened to you in Central City? Why did you even come here?"

"I doubt it was Woodward. He and I went to high school together. He's a bastard, but I don't think he did this. Not sure about Tell," Barry says. His shoulders shrug at the question about his move. "A couple reasons, really. There was a girl I needed to get away from. I needed something else and New York was a long way away. The real reason, though, is my father was transferred here from Iron Heights."

Hammerman could only nod at that little tidbit of information. The girl, something else that was needed, long ago he uprooted, not because of a girl, but when you live in a backwoods town full of racist folk, you gotta get up and run away to the big cities. Or get enlisted and have your shoulder nearly blown off in the war.
"Yeah. Hey. I never got a chance to apologize to you about what I said when it came to your dad. I didn't mean it, but it had to be real." He glances towards his watch now, backing up so that he could scoop his cap from the ground. It fell off his knee when he stood. "Listen. I need you to get me the names of anyone who could have hated you or that you've put away who could be out on parole from your time in Central City. Maybe someone in that file is here now, maybe looking to get back at you because you're an easy target."

Barry shakes his head and chuckles, "If you imagine what it was like for me as a kid, you'll realize that I've been through worse." Pause. "And it was pretty believable. Pretty real. Don't worry about it." Barry nods, "Yeah, I can talk to Joe and get you a list by the end of the day."

Taking a step towards the door, Hammerman nods. "Good. And I've read your files. Pretty harsh stuff, Barry. But, since you're in the clear, I'm going to pull the uni's off your door. I don't expect the clearing of your name to hit the news real big with the blackouts and attacks we've been having lately."

The hat was tipped and smacked upon his head as it usually is, and as he turns and heads for the door he stops and turns to give him another once over.

"And take a bath. Get cleaned up. You look like shit, kid."

"Yeah," Barry says as he chuckles a bit. "I gotta work on finding a place, too. It's gonna be a busy day." After his eyes trail down to the work in front of him, he adds. "And Hammerman? Thanks for your help."

There was more he wanted to say, but he really didn't. He only pursed his lips and tipped his hat as he headed out the door. No word of 'you're welcomes' and get back to work, Barry knows the type of guys like him, didn't know how to accept gratitude.

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